A Tale of a Mother, a Boy, and a Princess
by Rosa Cotton
Summary: COMPLETE! Wendy searches for Peter when he does not come home with the other boys. She finds him...with someone she did not expect, and wonders just how important she is to Peter. Chapter 8: You are Our Mother
1. Where is Peter?

Disclaimer: I disown the characters and objects and settings of this story. They belong to J.M. Barrie.

Author's Note: For now this story is G, though the rating possibly might go up depending on what I write next. This is my guess to the event – which we are told nothing about in the book – of when Wendy became jealous of the beautiful Indian princess, Tiger Lily. Please let me know what you think; comments, suggestions, if I should change the title, anything.

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A Tale of a Mother, a Boy, and a Princess

Chapter 1: Where is Peter?

Wendy nods approvingly at seeing that all the cooking is nearly done. Tonight the boys shall have a real meal: of nuts, yams, and soup. The boys will be mightily pleased, for the last two nights have been of make-believe suppers. And Wendy had to hush half of the boys when they complained this morning how they hoped there would be real food tonight. Or else, Slightly had said, they would look for berries and eat them before coming back for supper. Wendy had rebuked him and made sure they promised not to do such things.

Wendy removes the soup from over the fire and sets it on the tree stump which serves as a table. The nuts and yams are also put on the table just as the noise of laughter and proud marching echo above the girl's head: The boys have returned. Wendy smiles at the noise which reaches her ears.

First Nibs appears from his tree. He is followed, then, by Curly, Michael, Slightly, John, the Twins, and, last of all, Tootles.

"Good evening, Mother," they all greet the girl. Wendy, in turn, gives each boy a hug and looks them over, making sure they are washed from their great playing today. Each happily shows how much they have washed up before coming home. Wendy inspects each carefully and gives a praise of agreement, making the boys' cheeks turn as red as a summer apple. Oh! How they are quite pleased that Wendy is satisfied with their washing! For they have come very much to respect and adore her as their mother in the many long weeks since Wendy and her brothers first came to Neverland. And even John and Michael show her a respect which was not paid her when they were still in London. After she gives her youngest brother a nod and smile of approval, Michael requests a kiss, which he receives on the cheek.

As Wendy looks at them all, she realizes something. "Where is your father?" she questions.

The eight boys look at each other and shrug their shoulders. It is Nibs who tells what little is known.

"He went off sometime around noon. We were at Mermaid Lagoon when he suddenly flew off. We have not seen him since."

"Do you have any idea where he went off to?" Wendy frowns worriedly.

She hopes Peter did not go to the Jolly Roger to seek revenge on Hook. Peter has been in a down mood since "that evening," as he calls it. He is still mending from his wound, which Wendy looks over each night. He also fears that he has lost the boys' respect because of his weakness, though all the boys have sworn more than once to have no such thoughts and, instead, admire their father all the more. Please, do not let him be at the ship, Wendy begs silently. He is not strong enough yet to fight Hook; he will surely be wounded even more or…. But Wendy does not allow herself to finish the thought. Still a slight shudder runs through her small body. She worries about Peter a lot, even though he can take care of himself. And because of his injury, she worries even more that he will get into trouble when he goes off on an adventure.

Of course, he had gone off on his own before. Usually after he returned, he would spend the evening telling them all about his adventure, leaving them to decide whether everything he spoke of had happened or not. But often he would be back and come down into the house along with the others.

A chorus of shaking heads is the answer to Wendy's question. She sighs. She runs her fingers through her hair like a comb as she ponders on what to do. She is momentarily distracted and blinks in surprise as she watches her fingers go through her hair again. When she had first come here to Neverland, her brown hair was a little past her shoulders. Now it hangs halfway down her back. She tries to recall how long or short a time she and John and Michael have been here. But then she returns her mind to Peter. She stops playing with her hair, looks at the boys, and decides on a course of action.

"I shall go look for your father and tell him dinner is ready," she says. "You shall wait for us to return before eating."

All the boys' eyes widen with understanding. The last time the boys ate before Peter came to the table, he had been quite vexed the rest of the evening with them. They have ever since not started eating until Peter gives the signal. Eight heads of different colors and textures of hair nod in understanding.

"We shall wait," they all repeat in one voice.

Wendy sighs, and a small smile graces her mouth. She turns first to Slightly. He has been among the most helpful of the boys, asking to help set the table; or if the cooking is not quite done, he will watch the roast.

"Slightly, will you please see to it that the food does not go cold?"

The boy nods, proud to be entrusted with such a task.

"Tootles, John. I give you the task of making sure the others do not become too rowdy or excited."

"Yes, Mother."

"My dear sweet boys," Wendy addresses them all. "Please do behave yourselves. I hope to return shortly, and with your father."

"Oh, we will be good, pretty Mother," the boys all assure her.

Pleased, Wendy nods and goes up her tree to start searching for Peter.


	2. At the Mermaids' Lagoon

Author's Note: Thank you everyone for the reviews. On to the next chapter.

~~~ 

Chapter 2: At the Mermaids' Lagoon

It is already getting late, Wendy notes as she comes above ground. The island is slowly being covered in shadows as the sun sets. The blue sky is a swirl of colors and clouds. But Wendy does not enjoy the beautiful sunset; instead it reminds her of how late it is and that she should immediately go about finding Peter.

Wendy first goes to the Mermaids' Lagoon since it is the last place Peter was seen. She trudges through the underbrush, listening carefully for any pirates that may be about. The Indians are no longer a threat, for they are now friends with Peter and help him and the boys watch out for pirates. Wendy suddenly realizes that she has left her dagger in the house and has nothing to defend herself with should she run into trouble. And she cannot fly, for she has no pixie dust. Wendy picks up her pace, half walking and half running now, though still alert. 

She bursts out from between some trees, and there is the lagoon before her. Wendy breaks out into a full run and sprints to a rock which is halfway on the land and halfway in the water. She jumps onto it and walks to the edge. As she goes, she trips on a loose stone and stumbles. Her eyes widen and she only has time to gasp, "Oh!" before falling, head first, into the water.

She thrashes about – which way is top and which way is bottom, she cannot tell. Water, not air, is in her mouth and nose, for she was taken completely by surprise. She tries to calm down a bit and starts swimming. She is uncertain if she is going towards the surface or the bottom. Just when she feels that her lack of air is too much, she bursts from the water. She coughs and sputters violently. She treads water and manages to hoist herself up onto the rock. She stays on her hands and knees for a while, still coughing up the water and trying to get air into her lungs. She rests her forehead against the wet, cool stone, letting her breath even out and her heart stop racing. She opens her eyes and shakily gets to her feet. She looks about her.

The lagoon is silent in the gathering dusk. The mermaids have finished their playing and retired to their chambers. (Wendy is secretly thankful that the mermaids are gone. Who knows what they might have done when she fell in? They are not the most polite of ladies and would have likely caused for them fun, though for her it may have been trouble.) Marooners' Rock is deserted in the middle of the lagoon. A cool breeze sweeps across the dark water, and mist slowly creeps over the small waves and rock. Wendy shivers and hugs herself tightly, memories of Peter's battle with Hook and his rescuing Tiger Lily returning fresh in her mind even though it happened only a few days ago. And no Peter is in sight. 

Wendy also suddenly becomes aware of her appearance. Her nightgown, which is still soaking wet, clings to her thin figure. Water runs down her neck and back from her hair and also makes her face wet. She shivers again, this time from cold. She sniffs. She should probably go back to the house before she catches something…

Wendy's eyes widen, and she freezes. She holds her breath. Silence hangs in the air. She tilts her head to the side and listens closely. Still, nothing comes to her ears. She listens harder. Nothing. Wait…. Wendy blinks. Yes! There it is again! The sound of proud crowing faintly reaches her ears. Peter!

TBC…

~~~ 

Please let me know what you think!


	3. Peter and Tiger Lily

Author's Note: I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving. Mine was very nice, despite doing some schoolwork. I actually saw a TV spot for Peter Pan during the Lions and Packers game! And there was a bunch of scenes in it which are not in the teaser and/or trailer!!! There was a shot of Wendy saying "There's a boy here who's going to teach us to fly!" There was more about the flight to Neverland; it extended with what was shown in the trailer. Also there was more fighting between Hook and Peter. Wendy was talking about becoming a pirate. And a bunch of new shots of Peter and Wendy. It was awesome! So cool. I was basically jumping up and down with excitement when I saw it. Less than a month until it comes out in theaters! I cannot wait.

Anyway… *calms down* Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, that is one reason why I keep working on this story. Now, what you've all been waiting for…chapter three!

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Chapter 3: Peter…and Tiger Lily

Peter! No longer thinking of herself, Wendy jumps off the rock, rushes from the lagoon, and races through the trees, she hopes, in the direction of which the crowing came. It is Peter – no person or cock crows as he does.

Wendy loses her sense of direction as she runs almost blindly through the island's jungle. Her white nightgown starts getting slightly torn as she races past branches and leaves which seem to reach out to block her path and keep her back. Her feet start getting sore. But she keeps going.

Suddenly a loud crow rings in the air. Just a few feet from her! Wendy pauses and then smiles with relief. Filled with renewed energy, she stumbles forward a couple of yards and peers between some bushes. She finds herself looking at a small clearing. But she does not bother looking about; instead, her eyes are drawn to two figures.

Sitting on a rock is the Indian princess Tiger Lily. And hovering in the air is Peter, who gives off another crow. Tiger Lily smiles, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Peter, you are the most wonderful boy in the whole world!"

"Yes, I know," Peter brags, rising higher in the air, a cocky grin on his face.

From her hiding place, Wendy feels her relief at finding Peter give way to annoyance. He can just be too full of himself – and showing off to Tiger Lily besides! Wendy sighs and shakes her head. When she raises her eyes, Peter has alighted on the rock next to Tiger Lily and brings forth Wendy's thimble, which he keeps in his pocket.

"What's that?" Tiger Lily asks, looking at the thimble wonderingly.

"You don't know?" Peter mocks her.

She shakes her head humbly.

"This," Peter says in a low voice, as though he is sharing a great secret which only he himself knows about, "is a kiss."

"A kiss," Tiger Lily repeats slowly.

Peter nods. Lightly Tiger Lily brushes her thumb over the "kiss." She then smiles at Peter.

"How wonderful it is. Who gave it to you?"

Peter thinks hard, as though he had forgotten where it had come from. His hazel eyes clear. "Ah, it was given to me by my mother. Wendy." And here Peter smiles – at the thimble, at the memory of the exchange of "kisses," or at the mention of Wendy, one can only guess.

Wendy herself rubs between her thumb and finger Peter's acorn button. Tiger Lily's voice captures her attention.

"Wendy? Is she a good mother?" the Indian princess asks, her eyes flashing.

"Yes. She looks after me and the boys. She cooks for us, cleans up after us. And she makes things for us, like pockets. And she tucks us in. And…" Peter's voice trails off and then continues, though the light in his eyes now darkens, "…tells the same story every night."

Of all mothers, only Wendy Peter does not despise. And while he does like how she cares for him and the boys, the one thing he has against her is her bedtime story, which he hates with a great passion. He hates the story so much that he does not recall that poor Wendy held to the promise she had made to him in the nursery: she has told him and the boys lots of other stories. But, alas, Peter does not remember.

Both Wendy and Tiger Lily notice the dark cloud which settles over him.

"You, you do not like her story?" Tiger Lily says softly.

Peter merely shrugs, as though not wanting to admit what he thinks of Wendy's story-telling to the Indian girl.

Wendy shifts a little, trying to get into a comfortable position. She blushed with pleasure as Peter spoke about her and then blushed with a little bit of guilt. She continues to watch the scene and suddenly feels a little uneasy at the look on Tiger Lily's face.

"Peter," the Indian princess says in a soothing tone, "I could tell you stories."

"Only my mother tells me stories, and I have only one," Peter says. He tilts his head to the side and gazes intently first into Tiger Lily's left eye and then into her right. "What kind of stories?" he asks.

"Stories about a brave boy who fought pirates, who saved his friends, and everyone was so pleased with him. And he never grew up," Tiger Lily answers, her eyes shining.

Now Wendy starts to understand the princess and feels irritated.

"Oo!" Peter breathes in delight. He looks at Tiger Lily with a mix of wonder and cunning. "Do you truly know such stories? Wendy never has told stories as you claim to know."

The beautiful girl nods eagerly. "Oh, yes, I know such stories, Peter!"

"I'm glad," the boy cries and hovers in the air, his face full of glee.

Tiger Lily smiles happily. Then she becomes thoughtful. "Peter? May I give you a kiss?"


	4. Crowing Again

Chapter 4: Crowing Again

A thick silence hangs in the air. Everything is quiet, as though it is anxiously and excitedly waiting to see what will happen. Very, very faintly a ticking of a clock is heard from somewhere deep in the forest.

Wendy's breath catches in her throat. She feels her heart stop beating for a moment, then race wildly in the silence following Tiger Lily's words. It is so loud she fears the two she is spying on will somehow hear it. She is frozen, feeling she has been hit in the face. She does not want to see or hear anymore of what is about to happen. Not knowing what to do, not knowing what she's really doing, Wendy brings her hands away from the bushes, and they move back into their former positions. Quickly and quietly, she scoots backwards from her spying place a short distance.

Several thoughts and emotions fight for dominion in her mind. She realizes how alike Peter and Tiger Lily are – both are cunning, sly. She is now very grateful for Peter's innocence regarding thimbles and kisses. _If he was wise in that one area…_Wendy does not allow her imagination to play with the wondering. She is shocked by what she has just heard. Immediately at that moment Wendy harbors extreme dislike for the Indian princess. She feels like a mother who wants to protect her child. But Peter is in no danger. It is just a simple exchange of "kisses," that is all. And what right does she have telling Peter what he can or cannot do or with whom? _He is captain,_ she reminds herself. _He can do as he pleases. _She is the only girl Peter has accepted within his circle of friends. Now Tiger Lily is also Peter's friend – _but is that all she wants to be to Peter?_ Wendy asks herself. A shiver passes through her body as she for a moment she wonders what is now taking place between Peter and Tiger Lily.

She stops backing away and simply sits there on the forest floor, wonderings continuing to swirl around in her mind, making her dizzy.

But, of course, why would Tiger Lily not want to be something to Peter other than a friend? He did save her life, and obviously she is very impressed with him. But Peter in his innocence is not aware of how he unknowingly can wrap girls around his finger. He would not understand what Tiger Lily would want from him. He is only aware of enemies, friends, and mothers. _But that would not stop her,_ Wendy thinks, though she is not fond of the thought.

And yet, Wendy acknowledges, even if Tiger Lily is only a friend to Peter, things possibly will change…. Things have been different – Peter is much more proud and…conceited. Having the old Peter back, and then some, is a mixed blessing. And it is Tiger Lily whom she must thank for that.

* * *

Peter sank into a depression following "that evening." He clung to Wendy like a new-born babe, looking for security and acceptance and love. She was alarmed by this change in him, to say the least. He hardly went out from the house underground. Wendy tended his wound every day. When he became distressed at how he could now hardly fly, she tried to reassure him that he would soon be back to complete health.

That time had been very tiring for Wendy. She spent most of the day caring for Peter and trying to cheer him up. She then had to fix dinner for her and the boys. After everyone was tucked in, Wendy would try to complete her darning and sewing for the evening. But usually she spent most of the night cradling Peter in her arms, soothing him to sleep after hearing about the nightmare he had dreamt. Thus, she hardly got any sleep and was quite upset when she had failed to mend the boys' pants for them; so they had to play with holes in the knees. She had nearly broken during those depressing days from her worrying and busyness and lack of sleep. But she kept pushing herself to go on.

The other boys had been so kind and helpful. Curly would come home early and help Wendy with the cooking sometimes. And all the boys were much more polite and respectful to their father. They also assured Wendy that it was more important to make father all better than mending their things.

And Peter…had been very un-Peter like. He had had an air of seriousness about him and cooperated when Wendy changed the bandages on his shoulder. Usually it was hard for him to keep still for such dull things. And he showed Wendy a lot of respect, thanking her for everything she did for him, not being full of conceit. Such humbleness and obedience were a whole new side to him. Though Wendy had sensed that there was a soft tender side to Peter – it just did not come out often.

It had been the night before the old Peter finally returned. She had finished dressing Peter's wound and was about to retire to her sewing when Peter had caught her by the wrist. She turned back to him with worry and was going to ask what was wrong, but he spoke first.

"Are you all right, Wendy?" he asked.

Wendy was greatly surprised by this question and stuttered an answer. "I am fine."

He had peered closely at her, a little concern on his face – something she had not seen him show before, and she was more astounded. "You do not look well," he stated.

She silently agreed that she probably didn't. She had hardly anything to herself to keep herself as tidy as she could. Was her hair all snarled? Was her face dirty?

And she did not feel well. It was getting harder for her to keep up with the boys' energy. She felt like collapsing. Her body ached, and her eyes burned from lack of sleep. But she could not rest. The boys and Peter depended on her to care for them, and she could not do that if she stopped. She feared she might not yet get up again.

"I am fine," she repeated, with a bit more force. She tried to go but Peter tightened his hold.

"You are tired," he observed, noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

Wendy blinked at him. "Oh, no," she denied in a low tone.

"Will you please not stay up tonight? For my sake?" Peter requested in a pleading tone, with a look she had yet to resist.

"If it would please you, Peter…" she trailed off, resigned fully.

He nodded firmly. "It would," he returned simply.

Wendy sighed. How could she refuse him? It is when she nodded that Peter released her. She settled down on her bedding and fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.

That was the first time Wendy saw the tender side of Peter. And she had not seen him like that since.

The next day she woke up after all the boys except for Nibs had gone. She noticed, too, that Peter was gone. Nibs explained that he had gone off to visit the Indians. Wendy was puzzled but thanked the boy for the news.

Peter returned as she was about to start preparing dinner. She immediately noticed a change in him. His eyes seemed alive and bit mischievous. He floated around the room and was smiling, looking quite pleased. Wendy looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and hope. Throwing his head back, Peter crowed. Wendy gasped. It had been a long time since she had heard him crow! She wanted to hug him joyfully but simply grinned up at him and clapped her hands in delight. The old Peter Pan was back!

Excitedly, he told her about his visit to the redskins. Tiger Lily had thanked him for saving her, and her father had named him the Great White Feather. The redskins were now friends of Peter. And Tiger Lily claimed to be his very nice friend and praised how brave he was. He paused, and with that cocky grin of his appearing on his bright face, he exclaimed that he had flown! (Though he was a little rough he admitted. But he had flown nonetheless!)

Wendy simply listened and felt happy for her friend that he was his old self again.

* * *

Wendy sighs. Perhaps Tiger Lily's praise had lifted Peter from his sad state, but it also may have been a little too much for Peter's own good. He is so full of himself, more conceited than ever. He enjoys tremendously when the redskins bow before him. And he is delighted with having an Indian name. And Wendy now has the name "squaw," which the redskins call her. She does not particularly like it.

She and the boys have had to deal with Peter's newfound glory. The boys he mocks quite a bit about being a brave. This makes them feel more annoyed toward the redskins. And he feels he has the right to order them around a lot more. To Wendy it seems as though he does not really view her as a mother now, but as one to do as he commands.

She is troubled by this, wondering just exactly how Peter sees her now. Maybe she is not as important as she once was. He used to go with her to different parts of the island, but now she spends most the day by herself. Yes, things have definitely changed since Tiger Lily became an ally. Wendy fears perhaps more changes might come.

_I should probably go back to the house. The boys probably are very hungry by now, _she thinks_. But we cannot start without Peter._ It has been only a few minutes since she left her hiding place. She will go back and tell Peter it is time for dinner – just like a mother.

She gets to her feet and walks back toward where Peter and Tiger Lily are, her head held high, making sure to make her presence known. She breathes deeply, gathering her courage.

"Peter!" she calls, pretending to still be looking for him.

She reaches the bushes and starts to push them aside. "Peter?" she shouts again. Mentally bracing herself for whatever she will now find in the clearing, she steps between the bushes.

Who knows how little or much can happen in a short period of absence.


	5. The Second Kiss

Author's Note: Hi, everyone! I hope you all had a great Christmas. Mine was great. I saw Peter Pan yesterday at 10:05 PM! *dances about with glee* It was amazing. The cast was great. The music was great. The special effects were great. I loved the whole thing! Everything was great. I will definitely be seeing it again. Even my mom liked it; and that's saying a lot because she simply said the movie looked "interesting" when I showed her the teaser way back in June. And she prefers to wait until a movie comes out on video or DVD to see it, not go to the movie theater. So, yeah. *calms down*

I am very sorry for taking so long to update. This chapter decided to take its time. I hope this is worth the wait. I will try to update sooner – but I cannot make any promises.

I want to thank everyone who reviewed chapter four: **Sarah, Abby, toby, happychaos, anon**, and **laura**. You all begged for more, and now you have it!

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Chapter 5: The Second Kiss

Peter floats in the air, terribly pleased. He shakes slightly with wonder. Oh, to hear the stories that Tiger Lily claims to know! Perhaps she can tell them to him when Wendy tells the boys' their bedtime story…

"Peter."

His train of thought interrupted, Peter returns his attention to the young girl sitting on the rock. Dark eyes shine up at him. Silent, he looks at her questioningly, waiting for her to continue.

"May I give you a kiss?" Tiger Lily asks softly and a little shyly, her cheeks starting to turn a little red.

Peter's eyes widen in surprise at this unexpected question. He frowns in confusion – a feeling he does not often experience. It is a simple question, really. But he is at a loss. Does he want a kiss from Tiger Lily? He absently reaches into his pocket and rubs between his fingers Wendy's kiss. Would she allow him to accept a kiss from his friend? Or is it only the mother who can give such kisses? The frown slowly ripples from his features. He releases the kiss from his fingers and takes his hand from his pocket. He reaches a decision.

"If you like," he says in a nonchalant tone, shrugging. Only the slight stiffness of his back gives away his uneasiness.

A beam of pleasure spreads across Tiger Lily's face. Eyes sparkling with excitement, face becoming thoughtful, she ponders what to give him, for she wants to give him a special kiss. She brightens and reaches into a small pouch she wears on her leather belt.

Peter lands gracefully and soundlessly on the rock and crouches next to the Indian princess, curiosity building up inside him.

Withdrawing her hand from the pouch, Tiger Lily turns to face Peter and raises her hand between them. Peter meets her gaze for a moment before looking at her hand.

Tiger Lily does not own a thimble, but what she now offers to Peter is far more eye-catching and interesting than Wendy's simple thimble.

In the palm of her hand is a small round piece of leather. It is painted in a variety of bright colors. In the center of the circle is a white feather; across the circle is a sword: the handiwork of the princess herself.

Slowly Peter takes the token from the girl. He peers at it closely. He returns his eyes to Tiger Lily and smiles uncertainly. She gazes back at him with an expression he does not understand nor dwells on. He gives her, in turn, an acorn button. She smiles as she runs her thumb over it. Then she puts it in her pouch for safekeeping.

Peter also moves his fingers over his kiss. Lazily he traces the small hole near the top of the circle.

"You can wear it around your neck, if you like."

Peter looks up at Tiger Lily and nods simply, expectantly. From her pouch she brings forth a cord and loops it through the hole in the leather.

"Turn around," she requests.

The boy obeys silently. She puts the painted circle around his neck and ties the cord.

"There," she states, finished.

Peter turns to her, and she admires the leather resting against his tanned chest. Raising her eyes, she discovers him looking at her with a wondering expression, his head tilted to one side. She gives him a small smile.

"Tiger Lily –" he starts.

"Peter!" a loud call interrupts the boy.

Both are stunned and try to pinpoint where the voice came from…

Wendy steps into the clearing and switches her gaze back and forth between the boy and girl, who look at her in surprise. It does not escape her notice that they are sitting close together on the rock.

"Peter, Tiger Lily," Wendy speaks, smiling and nodding to both.

"Wendy?" Peter asks, raising an eyebrow and getting to his feet.

Tiger Lily nods in silent greeting. She then sends Wendy an annoyed – and possibly jealous? – look for interrupting her and Peter. She looks the girl up and down. Wendy swallows hard and meets the Indian princess's gaze. A great tension passes between the two girls; an unspoken challenge hangs in the air.

"Wendy," Peter repeats, following the silence to his first calling, oblivious to the silent standoff taking place.

Wendy blinks and backs off first, turning her attention to the boy. He looks at her curiously, and she blushes remembering her appearance: her nightgown clings to her body, and her hair is still wet and possibly has leaves and twigs tangled in it.

"I have been looking for you, Peter," she says, smoothing her nightgown and trying to look dignified. "You were late for dinner."

"Oh!" Peter explains. "I forgot."

Wendy nods. "The boys are waiting for you," she says simply. Clasping her hands, she waits.

Peter floats from the rock to the ground. He gazes first on his mother, taking in her untidy hair and wet nightgown. She shivers and appears a bit pale. He frowns slightly. She looks…different, not quite right. He then turns to his friend who looks expectantly at him from her place on the rock. He returns his gaze to Wendy and smiles.

"We shall return to the boys," he decides.

Wendy nods and watches as Peter tells something to Tiger Lily. She cannot hear what words are exchanged, but Indian princess's pout disappears and is replaced with a bright smile. Tiger Lily nods happily. She jumps off the rock and bows to Peter.

"Goodbye, Peter. I look forward to our next meeting." She then turns to Wendy, and her smile seems to fade a little. "Goodbye, squaw. Until we meet again," she says, nodding stiffly.

There is no mistaking this time the jealousy that swirls in Tiger Lily's eyes. Jealousy directed towards Wendy – being close to Peter as his mother. Wendy gives the princess a small, tense smile in return.

"Goodbye, Tiger Lily, my friend," Peter says.

Wendy quietly echoes the farewell.

Quickly the Indian princess disappears into the dark forest.

Smiling and carefree, Peter comes to Wendy. It is then that she notices for the first time the painted piece of leather hanging around his neck. Her eyes widen in shock. _A "kiss,"_ she does not doubt. From Tiger Lily. She grudgingly admires it. And her heart sinks. Never, to her knowledge, has Peter exchanged "kisses" with anyone other than her. Seeing him now display a "kiss" he received from Tiger Lily makes Wendy feel embarrassed; she only gave him a simple thimble. Perhaps he does not even remember it…. She, however, often fingers his acorn button.

Peter halts beside her. "Ready to go?" he asks her.

Wendy nods absently in reply.

Peter blows some fairy dust on her from his hand. It is not surprising that it takes Wendy a while to think of lovely, wonderful thoughts after seeing Peter's "kiss" from Tiger Lily. She manages to turn her mind to more pleasant things. With thoughts of kind Slightly keeping the food warm; of her sweet silver-gray companion and friend, her lovely wolf; and of playing with rainbow color bubbles in the Mermaids' Lagoon – and a helping hand from Peter – Wendy at last finds herself rising into the air. Peter and Wendy start to fly back to the house under the ground.


	6. Tortured Thoughts

Author's Note: Wahoo! I updated quickly this time. :) *does a little jig* Anyway, thank you all who have reviewed, I really appreciate it. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Comments and whatnot are welcomed. 

Happy New Year!  

~~~ 

Chapter 6: Tortured Thoughts 

The sound of air rushing past her thunders in Wendy's ears. She shakes her head slightly, trying to get rid of the slight dizziness she feels. Her body trembles from a passing shiver. Her eyes are starting to burn. Wendy frowns, trying to ignore what her body is doing and to think happy thoughts. Peter looks over at her and mistakes the cause for the expression on her face. 

"I am sorry, Wendy – for keeping you and the boys waiting. Don't be upset," he says, pleading.

Wendy is jostled from her thoughts and turns quizzical eyes to him. His voice seems to come from far away, echoing. Her frown deepens. 

"Why should I be upset, Peter?" she returns in a tone of resignation before turning her gaze away from his eyes. 

Slowly, her eyes travel down from his face to his neck. Colorfully painted leather stands out against the whiteness of his skin. Wendy draws in a ragged breath. She feels irritated and threatened for reasons she does not understand. 

_It is only gift,_ she tells herself. 

_But what if it is only the beginning? _another part of her mind objects. _What if she does tell him stories, stories that he will not scorn? What then? _

_Then he will hear stories which he likes, _she returns.

_Silly girl,_ sneers the other. _You know he may turn from you. You fear what will happen if Peter spends more time with Tiger Lily. _

_No, I don't…_ she trails off, uncertain. 

_You fear Peter will no longer want you. _

_No. _

_You will no longer matter to him. _

_No…_

Wendy attempts to turn her mind to other, more pleasant, things. She pictures herself happily playing in the Mermaids' Lagoon, along with the boys and Peter. Laughing, they hit the large bubbles to each other, changing color as the sunlight catches the bubbles at different angles. She smiles as the boys splash one another. The smile is replaced with surprise as she is soaked by a big splash. She rubs the water from her eyes and raises them to see Peter beaming at her.

"Ah-coo!" Wendy staggers in her flight from her sneeze. She sniffs and rubs at her nose with the sleeve of her nightgown. Looking down, she discovers she is slowly sinking. Desperately, she tries to bring back the picture of the bubbles…. But she suddenly feels tired. Her body feels like a weight of bricks, pulling her back to the ground. 

She jerks her head in surprise at the realization of a firm, yet gentle grasp on her wrist. Whipping her head around, she meets Peter's hazel eyes, his hold on her stopping her descent. She swallows hard past the lump in her throat. 

"Are you all right, Wendy?" Peter asks, confusion in his eyes. He looks down at her wrist and frowns at how warm her skin feels against his own.  

Wendy closes her eyes and tries to even her breathing, which is coming out in short gasps. For a moment there, as she looked down, the world was starting to spin. She waits for her heart to stop pounding wildly. Hesitantly, she opens her eyes. Things come into focus, and everything is still instead of swaying. She lets a small sigh of relief escape from her lips. 

"Wendy?"

Wendy turns back to Peter, who has not loosened his hold on her wrist. Confusion lingers in his eyes, but it now mixes with concern also. She and Peter have stopped moving and now simply hover in the air.  

"I am all right," she finally answers him. She tries to bring back the thought she had, but it is fuzzy.

Peter nods slowly and resumes flying, not releasing her, sensing her need for help. 

Gradually the clouds clear away from Wendy's mind. A cozy picture comes to her of Michael playing Indian and his teddy being the captive tied up with string and with a feather poking from the back of its head. Michael prances about, imitating an Indian dance while grinning broadly. The picture causes a small amused smile to spread across Wendy's face. 

Her body pushes forward so that she is alongside Peter. He glances at her with a questioning look. She nods. Slowly, he lets her go, watching her intently lest she suddenly needs help. But she is fine. At last he gives her a cocky grin. A calm silence surrounds them for a bit. 

"Wendy," Peter calls softly.

"Hmm?" Wendy mutters, the picture of her brother still before her. 

"Is it only the mother who can give kisses?" he asks.

Wendy blinks in shock, totally not expecting to hear that from Peter. She blushes and opens her mouth to answer yes. But she pauses, recalling what is to him a "kiss." This time when she opens her mouth, she answers differently.

"No, Peter. A mother is not the only one who can give a kiss," she answers simply and watches Peter from the corners of her eyes. 

"Really?" he looks at her with a bit of surprise. 

Wendy nods her head. "There is nothing wrong with exchanging kisses with, say, a friend." A new flush brightens her cheeks as she says this.

Peter looks thoughtful and fiddles with the painted piece of leather hanging round his neck. 

"Is _that_ a kiss?" Wendy asks quietly. 

Peter gazes upon the leather and nods. "Yes. From Tiger Lily."

Wendy is not surprised. She had guessed as much when she first laid eyes on the wonderful piece of leather.

"And you gave her one?" Wendy wonders.

"Yes." Here a strange expression comes over Peter's face, which Wendy does not recognize. 

She only nods in reply. 

In her mind, Michael gives his captive a pipe as a sign of friendship.

"Do you mind, Wendy?" Peter's voice brings her back to the present. 

She met his eyes blankly.

"That I gave Tiger Lily a kiss?" 

"No, I do not mind. Why should I? You are free to do as you please," Wendy answers with a sweet tone, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that objects to the words falling from her lips. "You are Captain," she states the obvious. 

"That I am," he proclaims proudly. He chews on his bottom lip for a moment. "That's all I wanted to know." Peter grins at her again before returning his gaze to where they are heading.

Wendy gives him a small smile, which he misses. She then also turns her attention to her flying.

Michael sets his captive free and contently hugs his teddy.

The voice in her head starts nagging her. _You do mind, though. Afraid he is more interested in the princess's kiss than in yours. _

_No,_ she argues, _it is not really my business what Peter does or does not do. He has always been free. _

_But,_ the voice interjects, _you shudder with nervousness at the thought of their being another girl in his life. _

_He has Tinker __Bell__, and he visits with the mermaids. _

_You and Tiger Lily are different, though,_ the voice whispers. 

Wendy cannot come up with an objection. 

Instead she turns her mind back to her brother. Michael dances about with his teddy. She looks at the back of his mother, who watches him; her golden orange hair tumbles down her back over her white nightgown. Michael races to her and throws his arms around her in a tight hug. When he draws back, the girl is dressed in leather and animal skins. Her hair, which is as black as a raven, is in a long slim braid.

_You fear you will be replaced as his mother._

"NO!" Wendy shouts in passionate frustration. 

Peter, startled by her outburst, looks at her with uneasiness. "Wendy?"

Her pleasant thought turning into a nightmare, Wendy does not try to think of another happy thought, upset with the other thoughts plaguing her mind. Like a bird falling from the sky after being shot by a hunter, she starts hurling head first toward the ground. 

"Wendy!" Peter shouts above her.

Wendy stares wide-eyed at the looming trees. She tries to concentrate…think lovely thoughts. But she is completely terrified by the rapid speed with which she is falling and not knowing how big a crash landing she will make. There is no room in her mind for happy thoughts. Instead, it is filled with nightmares of how she will meet her end. 

She attempts to twist her body so that she is falling feet first, her white nightgown whipping roughly against her body every which way. She can barely swallow. Her vision becomes a blur from the wind rushing into her eyes, causing them to water. Perhaps it is better that she can no longer make out towards what she is plummeting. This is it. What will the boys do when they find out how she met her end? Who will care for them? Amongst her fear, Wendy feels sadness and pity towards her boys. She never really got to say goodbye or how much they meant to her; before leaving them to search for Peter, she had simply told them to behave.  Now, each one came to her mind:  her brothers, John and Michael; the darling Twins; sweet Slightly, Curly, Nibs, and Tootles. She shall miss them all. Wendy hopes they will not shed many tears because of her. And Tinker Bell…Tink will not weep at the news but probably shall sing and dance for joy. Wendy has never really gotten along with the fairy. 

She closes her eyes and tries to brace herself for whatever her fate will be. She pants heavily, and moisture forms on her brow. Her heart is pounding so fast and hard she is surprised it has not burst. Gropingly, she finds the chain round her neck and discovers the smoothness and curves of the acorn button.

_Peter. _The wind seems to breathe the word around her. _Goodbye._

~~~ 

TBC…


	7. Poor Wendy!

Author's Note: Yea, I am finally back! It took me a while to figure out how this chapter was going to play out. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

There is a little reference in this chapter to one of my other _Peter Pan_ fics, _I Did Not Reach You, Wendy_.

Wow! I am amazed by how many reviews I got for the last chapter! Thank you **savetheducks, LilFlyergirl, snakefeather, WiseCrack, Angel285, SBGrl925, Yemerej's Love, xTiptoex, BendyStraw,** and **kiki**!!!

**redtiger:** I'm not planning on having another confrontation between Wendy and Tiger Lily – though I could possibly change my mind. But, rest assured, Tiger Lily's "ghost" will still haunt this story for a bit.

**Poztcardz205pean:** Peter does not really end up with anyone in this story, though he has interacted with both Tiger Lily and Wendy. This is not a romance story, though parts of it can be called romantic. I do not write stories where Peter ends up with Tiger Lily. I am a hardcore Peter/Wendy shipper. So if it is Peter/Tiger Lily you want, I'm afraid you'll have to look elsewhere.

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Chapter 7: Poor Wendy!

Everything is whistling past her, urging her on. Nothing attempts to stop her fall. She simply falls faster and faster. Behind her closed eyelids, bright colors mix and become a flowing river of rainbow shades and hues.

In her head Wendy is sure she hears the sweet, yet haunting voices of mermaids, singing of her coming doom. A certain ball of light zips about her mind, taunting her, rejoicing that Mother will be gone soon. Tinker Bell and an image of the mermaids appear in her mind's eye, jeering at her. The Indians come, mourning for her. Red-eyed, the Lost Boys' grief shines clearly in their faces. John and Michael do not cry – though sadness hovers over their features – trying to be brave and gentlemen. Her pet wolf howls in anguish and whimpers with sadness.

Then there is Peter, standing tall and straight. His face is solemn, with a trace of uncertainty and trouble in the depths of his hazel eyes. But he is not sad, nor does he cry. He is Captain, one who is not troubled for long by unpleasant things. Just as he has lost and gained Lost Boys over time, he has not been troubled by the deaths that have met some of the boys. And so shall he soon forget that she, Wendy, had ever been here. He will forget the only Mother he and the others had. He will forget about her kiss. Instead, he will not let this tragic event cause the boys to let down their guards if Hook tries to capture them. Peter and the others will continue to battle the pirates. He will spend more time with the Indians. He and the boys will listen to Tiger Lily's story-telling. Along with Tinker Bell, he will bring more boys to the island.

Time does not stop. The days go on. The feeling of sadness will quickly melt away. The pirates will forget. The mermaids will forget. The Indians will forget. Her pet wolf will forget. The Lost Boys will forget. John and Michael will forget. Hook will forget. Tinker Bell will forget. And Peter Pan will forget. The entire island, Neverland, will forever forget that once a young girl named Wendy Moira Angela Darling walked upon this magical place.

This thought causes tears to well up behind Wendy's eyelids and her heart to break in two.

"Oof!"

Her small body comes into contact with something hard. Her head snaps back. Pain courses through her. She moans. Floating stars explode in her head, which starts pounding. Her stomach ties in knots. Moaning again, she weakly grasps her tummy with her left hand. She slowly takes a breath and starts. She breathes in and out, listening to the quiet sound of air first rushing into her lungs and then escaping out of them. She is alive? Why? How? What has she landed in – or on?

Slowly, Wendy becomes aware of a sound in her ear. She forces her heavy-feeling eyes open and blinks several times to bring everything into focus. A darkening sky stares down at her. She shifts her body and discovers a pair of arms wrapped around her in a firm grip – one arm around her back and shoulders, the other under her legs. The right side of her body is crushed against a chest. Wendy blinks in surprise. Allowing the noise in her ear to gain her attention, she turns her head and finds herself gazing into the face of one Peter Pan, their noses nearly brushing. She cannot keep her mouth from dropping open in surprise. Peter stares at her, his face completely white. His eyes are wide and filled with an emotion she cannot name, but is certain she has never seen him show before. She is reminded slightly of how he was following "that evening," but hardly. The boy before her is not the one she imagined just a little bit ago. Once again she is looking at a new side of Peter Pan.

"Wendy!" Peter says her name – for seemingly the hundredth time since he caught her – in a strangled voice filled with nothing short of terror.

When he saw Wendy suddenly start falling to the ground, he had momentarily frozen. Like lightning, he recalled his nightmare, when he had lost Wendy because he was not awake. But then he quickly came back to reality and raced after Wendy's falling form. When he first took her and her brothers to Neverland, he had prevented Michael from falling into the sea several times, waiting until almost the last instant to grab the small boy from hitting the water. It had been a highly amusing game to him. But it was not a game to Peter when Wendy fell. He did not watch her for a while but sped after her, determined to save her, not to let his nightmare become real. He had managed to get ahead of her, and she fell into his arms, hard. But he had brought her close to him, not wanting to accidentally let her go. This was not a game this time. Pure fear had surged through him, and it has yet to leave him.

"Peter?" Wendy says in a soft tone, looking at him with disbelief and concern.

He only nods, suddenly having trouble swallowing around the large lump in his throat.

"Peter!" This time Wendy brings her hand up to his face, caressing first one of his cheeks, then the other. Bewilderment and anxiety swim in the blue pools of her eyes. She withdraws her hand, lightly wet. Wet from Peter's tears slowly rolling down his face!

"Why are you crying, Peter?" she asks gently.

She is astonished when he does not look scandalized at realizing this is what he is doing. Instead, he puts his face in her hair, his body shaking softly.

Wendy sighs, not knowing what to do or say. She is silent, gently brushing her fingers over Peter's hair, and looks about curiously. She peers below, trying to make out in the gathering darkness how far below her and Peter the ground is. Straining her eyes, she makes out the ground. It is her turn to become deathly pale. A circle of pine trees is a couple of yards below them. Within their circle is a sea of large jagged rocks. Wendy draws in a ragged breath. If Peter had not saved her, she would be dead. A shudder passes through her, reminding her of what her body was experiencing before her plunge and pain from the hard impact she and Peter made when he caught her. A tiny sound of pain flees her lips. But it is not silent.

Peter raises his head, dried tearstains on both his cheeks. But the color is returning to his face. His terror is now replaced with worry. He looks over the girl in his arms carefully. His brows draw together when Wendy silently leans her head against his chest, her cheek brushed by leather.

"We're almost home," he says simply.

"I'm all right," Wendy tries to assure him. It is partly true. The pain of her hitting him is almost gone. But her head is still pounding; dizziness surrounds her. She feels very warm in the coolness of the evening. Her eyes are watering from how hot they are. And her nose is becoming stuffy.

Peter peers into her face. She gives him a small smile which, she is relived, appears to satisfy him. Without another word he slowly starts to fly, holding her tightly. Wendy closes her eyes and relaxes against Peter's chest. She frowns slightly as the feeling of leather against her skin reminds her of why she cannot fly tonight. She attempts to push thoughts of Tiger Lily away, for there are other matters she will have to concern herself with when she and Peter reach the house under the ground.

Some time later – it seemed like a short time yet also many hours to Wendy – Peter gently lands on the forest floor. Wendy wiggles out of his arms and stands, his arm around her wrist. For a moment Wendy closes her eyes and swallows hard, fighting down the lump rising in her throat. If not for Peter's arm about her, she would fall to the ground. Gradually, she reopens her eyes as the wave of dizziness passes.

Without a word Peter escorts her to her tree. Walking again is strange to Wendy. She keeps telling herself which foot to raise and put before her. Yet she keeps her head high and her eyes are not dazed, for she is a lady. At last she reaches her tree. Peter watches her carefully. She is about to step into her tree when Peter stops her.

"Are you feeling all right, Wendy?" he asks.

Wendy's cheeks flush slightly. Slowly she turns to him and gives him a bright fake smile. "I am fine, Peter," she lies. Why trouble him?

Peter stares intently at her, looking through her. Wendy's blush deepens. He nods slowly, but he does not look convinced. Wendy averts her gaze to the leather around his neck, then to her feet. She hopes he will not press the issue.

She watches from under lowered lids as he starts toward his own tree. Wendy readies to enter hers, but pauses. She looks up at the retreating boy.

"Peter?" she says quietly.

Peter immediately whips around and is beside her in a moment, his eyes searching her face.

"What is it?"

Before losing her courage, Wendy blurts, "I…thank you. For saving my life."

Peter blinks in surprise and gives her a halfhearted cocky grin. He nods and goes off.

Wendy slowly turns back to her tree. If she goes faster, the world will continue to spin. She enters the trunk, shoots down, and tumbles into the house under the ground.

A series of cries of "Mother!" greet her ears.

Wendy balls her hands into fists to stop herself from clutching her head as her headache worsens. She lifts her head and jumps to see Peter before her, his hand extended to her. Slowly Wendy uncurls her hands and takes his offered one. He holds her gaze as he helps her rise. She gulps nervously. He knows. She can see it in his eyes. He knows she has not been honest with him.

The boys' voices fill the house, excited that Father is here, but neither Peter nor Wendy pay heed, each one's eyes locked upon the other's, as are their hands. It is Slightly who manages to break the spell, coming up to them and telling Wendy that the food is still warm. He is followed by Tootles and John, happily assuring her that the boys have all behaved splendidly. Wendy turns from Peter, thanking them and requesting that they come to prepare to eat. After they scurry off, she looks uneasily at Peter. He slowly releases her hand but not her gaze, which he continues to examine with his piercing eyes. Wendy manages to tear herself away from the boy, going to make sure the table is set and all is ready.

The meal passes in mainly a blur for Wendy. She feels as though she is in a great sea being washed by wave after wave. The boys chat much among themselves, but there is, surprisingly, no bickering tonight. Perhaps it is because the boys are aware of the strange tension at the meal. Wendy hardly eats, not being able to put much except water down her tight, dry throat. And every time she brings up her gaze from her food, her blue eyes crash with Peter's hazel ones across the table. It is not lost on her that he studies her intently during the meal. Nor is lost on her the troubled expression which fleets across his face at how full her plate is despite her claim of being full.

Wendy cleans while the boys prepare for bed. Peter disappears. To get the time, or for another purpose, she does not know nor ponders. Instead, she is surprised that he made no mention of the eventful flight they had coming back here to the house under the ground. For, as usual, it was during the meal he told about the adventures of the day. But not tonight, which unsettles her.

She leaves the kitchen area of the house and has Curly help her put the bed down. She settles herself in her rocker to tell the boys their bedtime story. But they decline.

"You should get some sleep, Mother," Nibs says. "You seem awfully tired."

The other boys agree. Wendy is surprised.

"You were out late. And you were very quiet at supper," one of the Twins puts.

"My dear sweet boys," Wendy murmurs, very surprised but secretly thankful. "Very well," she nods in consent.

Quickly the boys get into bed and basket. Wendy kisses each good night and puts out all the candles, the only light now coming from the small fire. In the deepening darkness, Wendy feels her energy and strength drain away. She sways but manages to balance herself. She eases into her rocker, and her body goes limp. Everything rushes at her. She cannot think, the earsplitting headache causing her much discomfort. Her body aches. She has trouble breathing because of the stuffiness of her nose. Her eyes close, the heat of the fire increasing their burning. Her ears pound in a wild gallop. Her hair is damp and very tangled. Rolling her head so it rests on her shoulder, she falls asleep, too weak to move from the hard wooden chair and put down her bedding. She trembles with coldness.

As silence descends on the house, Tinker Bell peers out of her house. She darts about, looking on the sleeping boys. Their playing while Wendy was gone vexed her greatly. But her anger mounted as she watched the silent interaction between Peter and Wendy when they returned. He had not asked if she was here or come and see if she was up. No, he simply watched that Wendy. It was not lost on the tiny fairy either that Wendy did not look well, but that did nothing to lighten her mood. Right then, Tink knew she looked better compared to the girl, but Peter was staring at her in a way Tink did not understand.

Now she hovers above the sleeping girl's face. The firelight makes her golden orange hair appear red. Her skin seems to have blush. And her breath comes out short and haggled. Tink looks on her with scorn. She lands on Wendy's nose but a second later flies off as the girl sneezes violently, causing her body to start sliding out of the rocker. But she does not awaken.

In a fouler mood, Tink is about to whisper in the sleeping girl's ear and cause some sort of mischief but, instead, at hearing a sound, speeds into her house.

Quietly Peter enters the house and sees that all have already retired. Floating across the room, he looks into the basket at the small form of Michael hugging his teddy. He then moves over the bed, gazing at each sleeping boy. He moves toward the fire and, his back to it, looks at the sleeping girl in the rocker. He frowns at seeing her actually partly in and partly out of the chair in an uncomfortable looking position. Slowly Peter lands on the floor and steps toward Wendy. He watches her and gently brushes some hair out of her face. He touches her forehead again. His frown grows darker at the how hot she feels. Yet he is puzzled, for she shakes as though she is cold.

Peter puts down Wendy's bedding and carefully transports her from the rocker to the blankets. Her whole body is burning like the fire! Yet she still shakes. At a loss of what to do, he goes and lies down on his bed and closes his eyes. Sleep refuses to come. Instead he worries about why Wendy is not well. Oh, he thought, she did not seem herself. What had caused her such trouble during their flight he did not know. But she was not all right as she had claimed. His eyes fly open as he hears her cough. Quickly he is at her side, peering at her, hoping to see what is wrong. But she is still full of coldness and heat. Sweat drips off her face. He goes and fetches a cloth and, wetting it, wipes her face before returning to bed. But he does not go to sleep. So, letting the worry in him win out, he puts himself in Wendy's rocker and draws it close to her. Much of the night he watches her troubled sleep, filled with coughs, sneezes, and whimpers, and shivers and sweating.

"Poor Wendy, what's the matter with you?" he whispers in her ear, trying to soothe her as she tosses about.

Thus the night passes. The Boy Who Won't Grow Up watches over his mother.


	8. You are Our Mother

Author's Note: Yes, at last we reach the end of the road. This is the last chapter. *sob* All good things must come to an end. Thank you all who has reviewed, I deeply appreciate the encouragement. I never imagined this story would be so well received when I first started this over three months ago. I hope this is a satisfying ending; I have spent the last three days working on this chapter, and now am going to go to bed so I have some chance to get up in the morning.

And as always, feedback is welcomed.

* * *

Chapter 8: You Are Our Mother

Peter groans and raises a hand before his face to block out the sunlight, streaming through the spaces between some of the roots, shining on his face directly into his eyes. He rubs his eyes and drowsily sits up in his bed, sleep falling away from his body like waves rushing down a beach back into the sea. It is whisperings which softly reach out to him, then retreat and come back, tickling his ear, which cause the boy to look about.

He blinks curiously at the circle of boys before the fire, heads all bent, observing something of interest, gently shoving each other for space.

"— still not up?"

"Ouch! Move over, Tootles!"

"I want to see!"

"Sh! Not so loud, you'll –"

"— this late before."

"She wouldn't take the medicine."

"Of course, she's not awake, silly!"

"—starve if we don't have anything to eat…!"

"Do stop complaining, Slightly! Remember what she said about worrying 'bout food now."

"Michael! Don't hit her so hard. We are to be respectful."

"Perhaps she is truly dead this time…"

"Poor Mother!"

In a moment Peter flies from his bed and hovers over the boys' heads, peering into their circle. With shrieks of surprise, they all tumble back onto their behinds, revealing the object that held their interest to be Wendy. Raising their eyes and discovering it is only Peter, they cheerfully greet their father.

"What is going on?" Peter questions, kneeing beside the still girl.

Michael crawls next to him. "She hasn't gotten up yet. And it is getting late." He frowns in concern and brushes some hair from his mother's forehead.

"She hasn't moved at all nor made a sound," Curly says, joining the two at peering down on Wendy.

"Nibs thinks she is dead," states one of the Twins.

Outside the sun disappears behind the dark clouds. A chilling wind whips through the island. Rain pounds into the earth, while lightning flashes above the island and thunder rumbles.

None of the boys are aware of the stormy weather outside the house under the ground; instead they exchange worried glances and quiver at the gathering dark storm descending on their captain, who fixes Nibs with his dark scowl, frightening the poor boy. Lowering their eyes, all the boys scoot away from him and their mother whom he looms over protectively. Fortunately, they all are saved from the storm over Peter erupting by John.

"Actually, I believe Nibs's fear is not founded," Wendy's brother claims in a calm tone.

The glass-eyed boy is pinned by eight pairs of eyes. He makes his way to Wendy's side, not melting under the lightning-filled gaze of Peter, who watches him carefully. The others marvel at their comrade's bravery. John raises an eyebrow at the hand Peter has on his sister's shoulder but very wisely does not comment on this and instead turns his attention to Wendy.

A tense silence hangs in the air, broken only by distant bangs of thunder and the sound of water nourishing the trees and ground. None of the persons awake utter a sound; neither is there the noise of tinkering bells from Tink, who peeks out from behind her curtain in her boudoir at the goings-on in the room. Even the wood in the fire does not creak and shoot up sparks.

John gently places the palm of his hand over his sister's forehead. He removes it several seconds later, a frown surfacing on his face, which in turn causes Peter's eyes to darken and the other boys to stiffen in apprehension. The young Darling proceeds to lower his head so his ear is an inch or two from her face. When he lifts himself so that he sits back on his knees, all see the sunshine brightening his face.

"She is not dead," he proclaims, causing the boys to sigh in relief and Tink to wail in disappointment before flying off in a rage. "She is much too warm – and is still breathing – to be dead," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"What's wrong with her then?" Tootles asks as everyone comes forward to crowd around Peter and Wendy.

"I believe she is sick," John says in a solemn voice.

"Remember that one time she got the flu?" Michael directs the comment to his brother. "Mother and Nana kept her in bed for seemingly days and days! Maybe that is what is wrong with her."

"You may be right," John agrees, "and she didn't seem really herself last night either."

"Mother had her get as much sleep as possible –"

"Wasn't allowed out of bed, doctor's orders –"

"She had to take the medicine that was gooey like honey and slides slowly down your throat –"

"So you did try some of it!" John accuses.

"I thought it was honey! It looked and smelled like it," Michael tries to defend himself.

"Didn't taste like it, did it, though, eh?"

Michael makes a face of disgust and covers his mouth with his hands.

"It was days before Wendy was allowed to get up and play," John recalls.

During this whole exchange the Lost Boys' and Peter's heads whip back and forth between the two boys discussing their sister. Feelings of irritation course through Peter, not being able to follow the conversation of sick, flu, medicine resembling honey…

"So we have to wait for her to get better?" Curly reasonably asks.

"Aye." John and Michael both nod.

All turns toward Peter with expectation in their eyes. Slowly, he looks at them before returning his gaze to the sleeping girl. "We shall leave her as she is. Let her sleep," he decides. "What should we give her if she wakes?"

"Oh, she will wake up," Michael assures, "sometime. It will be a long time before she becomes herself again…"

"Michael!" John interrupts him, noticing the flashing of Peter's eyes. "Um, she should probably take some medicine."

Peter nods, feeling bothered by his lacking of knowledge regarding what to do to make Wendy better. He smoothes the blanket covering her still form.

"We should try to bring down her fever by washing her face with cool water," John continues, everyone hanging onto his every word.

One of the Twins discovers a partly dry cloth by Wendy's pillow and holds it up. "Will this do?" he asks.

"Yes. That will be excellent. Peter, did you use that last night on her? Truly? Good lad!" John praises.

"How clever of you!" Michael adds, grinning broadly up at Peter.

A cocky smile plays in one of the corners of Peter's mouth, and a swell of pride rises in his chest. He is glad not to have been completely ignorant on this matter. He settles back on his knees and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

The storm outside dies away, leaving the once hot, humid air of the island cool and refreshed. A steady drizzle falls; rolling hills of mist float above the forest floor. Birds start chirping, shaking the small diamond-like raindrops from their feathers. A light breeze runs gently through the trees, causing the branches and leaves to shiver, creating a nature-symphony as rain slides off the trees and tumbles to the ground. The sun peaks through the departing clouds.

"All play should be kept outside. She may wake with a headache and the noise from our rough play would likely make it worse," John concludes.

"What about food?" Slightly voices his concern. He blushes as he becomes the center of attention.

"What about it?" Peter questions, arching one brow in puzzlement.

"What about breakfast, supper, since mother has to stay in bed? What will we do? We cannot starve!" he finishes in a wail, covering his head with his hands in despair.

"Now I will have none of that," Peter says in a mock stern voice. "For the time being, we shall have our meals the same as we had them before Wendy came," Peter assures – though he himself does not remember what they ate before Wendy came.

"But I miss her stew!"

"And her fish!"

"Roasted coconuts…"

"Wild rabbit."

The boys sigh, recalling their favorite dish their mother had cooked in the past.

Peter frowns in disapproval despite his own tummy softly growling and his mouth watering as he recalls the delicious smell and taste of Wendy's cooking. Before he can rebuke the boys, Tinker Bell flies into the underground house and rests on his shoulder, tingling of bells ringing out long and loud as she tells Peter the message she was asked to pass on. Peter's face brightens, rises to his feet, and immediately replies, "Tell her we accept and shall arrive shortly." Tink rolls her eyes in annoyance, a displeased expression on her face, and then darts off.

The boys look up at their father who gives them a cocky smile and a tilt of his head. "Put away your fears, lads. Tonight, we shall eat with the redskins!"

The boys leap with delight, and amidst quiet, excited whisperings – so as not to disturb mother – hurry to their trees and above ground.

* * *

Wendy's brow furrows. Weakly she moves her head back and forth, trying to get rid of the buzzing noise which surrounds her, sometimes louder in one place and fainter in another. But her movement only increases the volume of buzzing. Weakly she raises a hand and swipes at the air around her. She jerks with surprise as the back of her hand comes in contact with something; momentarily the buzzing halts but then starts up again in a greater fury. Shaking her head, she realizes it is not buzzing she hears but, rather, the tinkling of little bells. Groaning, Wendy opens her eyes to find herself face to face with one "put out" Tinker Bell, screaming at her in rage for hurting her. Wendy blinks blankly at the angry fairy and rolls onto her side with a moan.

"Please, leave me alone, Tink," she whispers in a dry tone.

Tink only increases her assault. She yanks on the poor girl's hair and shouts in her ear until Wendy gives her attention to the fairy once more. Now Wendy had learned a bit of the fairy language and could discern what some of the tinkling bells meant. She frowns at Tink who alights on her blanket, pacing back and forth. With a great deal of effort, Wendy braces herself up on her elbows and watches the fairy curiously, attempting to understand what she is ranting on about. The only words she can catch are: Peter…fire…boys…losing…Tiger Lily…ignored…insulted…. Her pacing making her dizzy, Wendy averts her gaze to the blanket.

"I cannot understand at all what you are so upset over," Wendy says with a quiet sigh, slowly shaking her head.

Tinker Bell abruptly halts her stomping/pacing and grows silent. For a long minute she simply stares up at the girl whom she has found herself at odds with over Peter. Whom she has never gotten along with – though the one thing they have in common is their dislike for Tiger Lily. Large blueberry-blue eyes hold gold-green ones. The moment breaks; Wendy swears the tiny pixie turns bright orange before screaming some sort of insult and dashes into her boudoir, firmly closing the curtain behind her. She then throws herself onto her bed and cries hot tears.

Perhaps it is fortunate that Wendy does not understand what Tink was going on about and why she is so angry at her. Really, Tink was only taking out all her frustration and hurt on the one who is partly responsible for the fix in which she finds herself. It was Tink, not Wendy, who followed the boys to the Indian camp. It was Tink who was brushed off by Peter, who told her that she would probably be bored there at the feast. Tink was the one who watched from a bush the entertainment put on for the guests of honor; Tiger Lily performed a special dance, black eyes shining at only Peter. It was Tink who watched the children enjoy themselves and who saw Peter oblivious to Tiger Lily, who sat at his feet, hanging onto his every word. It was Tink who felt insulted when she alighted by his place and he paid no heed to her but went off on a walk with the Indian princess. No one noticed her there, nor were they aware of when she left.

Returning to the underground house, she only became more angry and hurt when she caught sight of the sick, vulnerable-looking Wendy. That was the last straw. Hadn't she, Tinker Bell, known Peter since she brought him to Neverland? She had always been his constant companion and friend. She has seen the many Lost Boys that have come and gone. Then she starts to lose Peter first to this Wendy and now to Tiger Lily. Why must this happen? Why did she and Peter have to bring the Darling children here? Why did Peter have to save Tiger Lily? Why?

And so, the little fairy then let out all her corked-up feelings by darting about the sleeping Wendy, raging at her and how she would do anything to go back in time and never bring her here. And now, with no more strength to yell, Tink sobs long and hard in her room. Never has any fairy shed so many tears before. Tink does not make an appearance the rest of the night.

But let us return our attention to Wendy, who watches the fairy fly off, her brow drawn in a confused frown. She attempts to sit up, but her body feels like it weighs as heavy as a barrel full of bricks. Her eyes shut and jaw tightens as she realizes how stiff her body is. Without grace, she falls back onto her bedding with a little bounce and a groan of pain escaping her chapped lips. Her stuffy nose causes her to breathe through her open mouth. One of her hands slowly and weakly comes up to her head, the pounding increasing. Wendy turns so that she faces the dying fire; she pulls the blanket closer around her, feeling the chill hanging in the air while at the same time waves of heat rolls through her body. She would try to retrieve some of the wood tucked in a corner of the room, but she knows she does not have the strength, nor does she desire to find out if standing will cause the world to tilt and spin or not. Hot tears burn her eyes. She hates not being able to get up, being weak and so, so…vulnerable! She pounds her fist in frustration. She cannot just lie here for who knows how long until she is better. She has things to do! She cannot appear weak to the boys, especially Peter! No, not to Peter… What if her illness causes him not to need her? And the poor Lost Boys, the dears! What will they think of her? She cannot cook for them, mend their clothing, or go on expeditions with them. And she may not be able to tell them stories lest she loses her voice. Suppose they do not want her for a mother anymore?

Wendy closes her eyes, exhausted by these whirling thoughts and fears. In the deafening silence she finally becomes aware of the fact that she is alone. The boys are not here. She wonders where they could be. It must be rather late, way past time for dinner! Sighing, she hopes they will not be forced to have meals consisting of nuts, wild berries, and fruit. How ashamed she will be if things come down to that! Moping in self-pity and angry at herself for thinking so immaturely, Wendy buries her face into her pillow, not caring that she is unable to breathe.

But she is saved from suffocating by her heroes – the boys return. One by one they tumble into the room. A groan comes out as a sigh from her as her headache increases from the raised volume of the boys chattering. She turns over and looks up at the dark ceiling which is soon replaced with eight faces peering down at her. The smile she attempts to give them falters; there is absolutely no need for Wendy to ask where they have been or if they are hungry: the feather pieces, multicolor paints, and contented expressions on the lads' faces tell a story all their own. Tonight has gotten a whole lot worse for our heroine.

"You are awake, Mother!" Curly cries joyfully as the other boys voice their happiness.

"We wondered if you would ever wake up!" Tootles claims.

"Hello, my sweet boys," Wendy tries to greet them, but it comes out as a dry croak, resulting in a coughing fit.

"Don't just crowd her! Give her space!"

Wendy, still covering her mouth while coughing, looks up in surprise to see Peter pushing the boys back.

"Someone get her some water!"

The Twins dash off to do his bidding. Wendy simply looks at him in amazement. Unlike the others, he has no paint on his face or feathers in his hair. But…there it is, still hanging round his neck…

"How do you feel, Wendy?" John asks. "Awful?"

Wendy nods silently in affirmation.

"Here it is!" the Twins proclaim, returning with a cup of water.

John moves to Wendy's head and, along with Slightly, helps her slowly sit up, each holding onto one of her shoulders, steadying her. She attempts to take the cup, but her hands tremble so that she has to leave them in her lap. It is Peter who holds the cup and tilts it, allowing her to drink and let the cool liquid rush down her burning throat. The water is taken away, and she is about to be laid down again when Michael suggests that she take some medicine. Wendy accepts it, though it is not very pleasant to taste. Finally, she lies back down.

"Thank you," she says softly, her voice starting to sound normal.

The boys smile at her.

"I am sorry for not being able –"

"It's all right, Mother," Nibs tries to reassure her.

"We ate with the redskins," Michael puts in.

_I noticed,_ Wendy muses to herself, looking over the tell-tale feathers and paint.

"We have been invited to join them every night until you are well again," John says.

"Really?" Wendy says in a low tone filled with surprise.

"Feasting with the redskins is better than living on just fruits and nuts. But I prefer your cooking, Mother."

"Thank you, Slightly," Wendy smiles weakly.

"And Tiger Lily offered to tell us all a story so you won't chance losing your voice," Tootles adds, thinking it a splendid idea.

"Oh." Wendy simply stares at him. "Did she really suggest that?"

"Aye. She was very concerned regarding you. She hopes you will feel better soon and wants you to let her know if there is any way she can help you."

For a moment, Wendy's eyes turn green before she closes them and sighs in defeat. "That was, very thoughtful of her," she murmurs in a strained voice.

"Yes. She is a good storyteller, too. She told us a story before we left, about a group of boys who live on an island and spend their days fighting pirates." Curly's eyes twinkle with excitement. "And one of the boys in her story was named Curly!"

Wendy fights to keep her face blank. She places a hand over her stomach; she fears she will become ill if this conversation does not close soon. She swallows slowly. "Was the story really that wonderful?"

"Yes, but she didn't have time to finish it before we left. She promised to tell us the rest when we come back," one of the Twins pouts.

Her heart sinking in her chest, Wendy feels tears building up behind her closed lids. She shivers slightly, recalling the fire that blazed in the Indian princess' dark eyes when they had last met, wishing that she was in Wendy's place. _She must be rejoicing in her good fortune. _

"Why don't you boys go get ready for bed," Peter's voice breaks into her thoughts.

Wendy listens to the sounds of scurrying feet and fading voices, leaving her eyes shut, lest she begin to cry. Soon it is quiet once more. She jumps at a sound and opens her eyes to discover Peter adding wood to the fire, which quickly grows large and gives off much heat.

"Thank you, Peter," Wendy blinks back the tears.

Peter turns to her, his back to the fire, shadows playing over his figure. He nods solemnly and then proceeds to watch her for a while, silent and still. Growing uncomfortable under his piercing gaze, Wendy breaks the silence.

"Is something wrong, Peter?"

Peter floats in the air, sitting cross-legged. "The boys and I will not always go eat with the redskins, if you do not wish it."

"It does not matter what I wish, Peter. You are their father and captain."

"And you are their mother."

"Look at me! I am stuck in bed. I am weak and helpless. I cannot cook. I cannot do the washing or sewing. I cannot go outside. I cannot tell stories. I am worthless. What kind of mother is that?" Wendy looks up at the ceiling, starting to talk to herself out loud. "Who knows when I will be well? They may get a new mother who can take care of them – who would want a mother who needs taking care of? Mother never became ill. She always knew what needed to be done.

"But are you really that important to them, Wendy Darling? You are just a simple little girl. You cannot even compare…. Now you know for next time just to wait for him no matter where he is, whom he is with, or how late he returns. Then you won't risk the possibility of taking tumbles into water in the cool evening, not having happy thoughts and being unable to fly…." By now tears are streaming down Wendy's face as she works herself into a fit.

Peter listens to this tirade with complete confusion. He tries desperately to understand what kisses and thimbles have to do with the redskins, but only becomes more lost. He lands gently next to her and searches his mind for something to do to make Wendy feel better and stop her rambling and tears (the former which annoys him, while the latter makes him very uncomfortable). What to do, what to do…. He fears she will possibly cause herself to become more ill if she keeps this up. On an impulse, he kneels over Wendy, cups her face between his hands, and thimbles her on the forehead.

Well, _that_ shuts her up. She freezes; though his lips are rough against her skin, the scents surrounding him, which tickle her nose, are of soft spring rain, sweet maple sap, and…something uniquely…_boy_. When Peter pulls away, feeling just a tad dazed, and gazes at Wendy, her mouth is hanging open slightly, eyes wide and filled with shock. The rivers of tears also lessen rapidly. Now that she is quiet, Peter is uncertain of what to do. Wendy sniffs and blinks up at him.

"Peter…?" The uncertainty in Wendy's eyes mirrors that which he feels tighten around his heart. She reaches for his hand, but he quickly floats out of her reach. Wendy watches the boy hover above her.

"The boys adore you, truly, you know," Peter says in a slightly shaky voice. "They always try to please you. They eagerly want you to get better. And they are a bit protective of you. _You_ are their mother."

Wendy's mouth falls completely open as she realizes he is trying to tell her in a sort of indirect way that she has no reason to fear losing the boys' devotion.

"And your opinion does matter. We do not like it when you are unhappy," Peter continues. "We shall not join the redskins unless you don't mind. I am sure the boys can cook something under your guidance, and they do prefer your cooking."

"O-oh," Wendy stammers. "Oh."

Peter watches her with a touch of amusement in his twinkling eyes and gives her a cocky smile. "And I am certain you shall be able to go outside once you are more on the mend. If you are still weak, I can carry you."

"_Carry me!?"_ Wendy gasps, scandalized.

"Certainly," Peter says, not at all seeing what is so troubling about the idea.

Wendy feels herself blush to the roots of her hair. She is speechless.

"But we shall see about letting you, depending on you regaining your strength. We all need you. We will be your servants, doing whatever you need assistance with."

Wendy wonders if Peter is joking or not.

"Things won't be the same until you are well again. The boys need a mother's care."

"I thought you despise mothers."

"I do despise mothers, except for you. You are our mother. You are different." Peter shrugs. "And you tell wonderful stories, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Hamlet…" he trails off, staring into space, then snaps his gaze to her.

_He remembers..._ Wendy's heart lifts and she smiles brightly, the first true smile since yesterday. "Thank you, Peter," she breathes to him.

He grins back, pleased she is happy. Without another word, she turns her head and falls asleep. Slowly, Peter floats back to the ground. For a few moments he watches the sleeping girl, wondering what he can do to show his pleasure at her being happy once more. He ponders still when the boys come in and the bed is put down and all jump into the bed. His frown clears away as an idea whispers in his ear. He moves to Wendy's side and a few seconds later returns to his bed, a satisfied expression on his face as he drifts to sleep.

When Wendy wakes up the next day, she discovers three acorn buttons cupped in the palm of her hand. Her fears regarding her importance to Peter and the boys dissolve.

But she will never make peace with Tiger Lily. The tension between them shall remain with her like a thorn in her side. And sometimes when you mention Tiger Lily and Peter Pan in the same sentence, her eyes turns green for a heartbeat.

So here the tale of a Mother, a Boy, and a Princess draws to a close.

THE END


End file.
